Eggs: The great breakfast mystery food. I never know if I'm going to eat a french omelet or scrambled eggs until they hit the plate.
I don't think that putting "Fast Checkout" on the signs for the self-checkout lanes at grocery stores is very accurate. No way the average shopper is faster than the seasoned cashier who had many months or years experience ringing up items.
But then again, I also don't think that a more accurate "Introverts and people who are worried that our cashiers are silently judging you based on what you are purchasing checkout" would fit on the sign either.
One of my great skills in life appears to be buying instant oatmeal packets at a rate that far exceeds how fast I consume them.
When I was first introduced to pierogi as a boy, I thought they were called "Pee Doggies" and was really upset because that is just a terrible term for something you are expected to eat.
James Cameron's Titanic was released twenty years ago today. I say that enough time has passed for the gritty reboot to be made.
This review of a local bar that I found on Google completes me.
I bought this camera to one-up all my friends with limited
edition Leicas, but I can't figure out how to make it take
This is my favorite photography thing of the week.
I had a dream last night where the dialog for porno flicks was treated the same way as microstock photography. There were websites that people could upload their home recorded sound bites and dialogs for porn movies in hopes that eventually someone will buy them for a few dollars to use in a film.
A couple at the bar just asked how big a pint of beer was and if they couple split it.
I better scan this ticket stub to the first Smashing Pumpkins concert I ever went to before the ink completely fades away.
1-7 based on actual events that happened to me on 11/25/2017.
Me: "Why is it so damn cold in my house?"
Me Again: "Oh yeah. Furnace programs thinks I'm at work right now."
In the future it will not be taught that the swamp was drained by Donald J. Trump's campaign promises, but collectively by the American women who have been wronged.
It took me a good five to six hours, but all of the 8x10
negatives I have shot over the past three years have been labeled,
sorted, and stuck into a box. As opposed to the freeloading in
random locations around my office where they have been.
Somewhere out there, a person who has spent the past decade creating their identity around being that person who only bitches about Duluth roads is trembling that the street repair tax will pass, and they will be left as a sad husk with nothing left to identify themselves with.